Wonderland Blues
by OniZenmaru
Summary: There was no such thing as simple, clean, or pure in the world. Everything was settled by one thing and one thing only…who had the fast hand… ‘Its nothing personal, it’s just good business…’Rabi x Allen
1. The Rabbit

**A/N:** Another fic me and a friend did. As always it's Rabi x Allen...but this time we added a little something different

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No one in their right mind would hold such a gathering like this in the open, but apparently some people had more courage than others. The weather was nice, the temperature well above seventy degrees with not a cloud in the sky; it was surprising since the last few days had been terribly hot, and this could only be an omen of what was to come. The streets were crowded with people cheering someone name, someone who could very well change how the country was run…or so they thought. Secrets were deadly…and in this case it would lead to the demise of a man people thought was a saint. A smirk…this little gestured meant it had already begun. But where did come from? The crowd? No…that was far too obvious; any one stupid enough to do something some like this around that many people deserve to be caught, and he didn't feel like getting caught today. Perching himself on one of the taller buildings, making sure there was noting spectacular about it he looked down upon everyone. He'd learned that bright buildings attracted more attention than he wanted, and he almost got his head smashed in once …it wasn't a pleasant feeling. But if had gotten captured his name would've been rendered useless…

His breathing was so very steady, thanking his now stable nerves for that. He wasn't afraid for what he was about to do, seeing that it wasn't his first time…no…he was excited. It had been days since he'd had this feeling, like he was about to walk through a door of the unknown and enjoy whatever happened. His balance was perfect, he never tilted, bobbed or lost focus because the would've meant putting the main objective on hold for a few seconds…He only had mere seconds and he couldn't miss a single one. This was his job, he was the one people called on when things needed to get done…

He was the White Rabbit…the one that couldn't be caught…

That was the name given to him by the person who owned it before, and the day he died was the day he passed the name to someone else. That's how things were in this world, and if names were not passed on upon death they were not allowed to be used by anyone else…meaning that along with the person it had died as well. Things like that didn't happen too often, since having a name die wasn't just about it being useable; when a person would die along with name the 'player' would die as well. The person represented in the name would no longer be in the game, and it was a great annoyance to some when this happened. Fewer players made it more likely for someone to come after you, sometimes for the soul purpose of taking the name you worked so hard for. But he wasn't thinking about dying right now…the only thing on his mind was getting his job done. His eyes were perfect, like an eagle he could see long distances and because of this his position was perfect. He wasn't going to be screwed over by his poor judgment, so the shadows were where he stayed so he wouldn't be noticed as easily. The last thing he wanted was to get his head chomped off by that nag in his ear; oh no, he never did these things alone, not that he wasn't capable of doing so. He only brought another person into this for information, so he could know where the cops were at all times, at what time he needed to pull this off and if there was anyone else in the vicinity that he needed to worry about. These were things he could do on his own, but keeping constant tabs on those things was difficult for one person to manage.

Once he heard the 'click' in his ear along with someone's voice, he knew that it was time. The famed man he was looking at was currently trying to calm the crowed down, telling them 'yes my children, the time for change it now'. His smirk widened…what the loud of bull! The only thing the man wanted to change was the amount of money that went into his pocket, not caring how badly he messed up the economy. It was a shame people were so dense that they couldn't see the truth that was staring him right in the face, nor did they want to admit it. Humans were so…blind and misjudged the characters of others so quickly…that's why he was doing what he was doing. He was objective not only to the man's ideas, but rest of the world. He saw the whole right and wrong thing as something completely overrated, because in his world…there was only good business.

His finger twitch…all he needed was a second…a single sliver of time was enough for him get what he needed down. He knew his aim wasn't off in the slightest, but everything came down to timing. He wasn't going to miss unless the ass made a sudden movement, and judging by how into his speech he was getting into that wasn't happening anytime soon. Messing this up would mean not getting paid, and not getting paid wasn't an option. He'd be damned if he was going to miss another meal, or not pay his bills for _another_ month. He wasn't going through that again and this one action was going to determine if he was. Looking through his scope, he could see the man's head in view, and he was going to take the opportunity he had to shoot a hole through it. But there was problem…

The man was already going down, and he had yet to pull the trigger…The crowd's cheers had turned into screams of horror, making them begin to panic and run. Security guard rushed to the aid of the man, but it was far too late for that…The bullet had hit the man in such a way that it penetrated the temple and exited out of cheek right below the eye, but the peculiar thing about it was that there was no splatter. Usually when someone was shot by another from a high angle, there would've been some sort of indication that some had indeed gone through his head…but there was nothing but two small holes were the bullet had come in and out. With such a clean shot it could've only meant that he had been shot from a much closer distance, maybe five or six floors below the building he was currently on.

"Fuck!" He shouted, knowing just who had taken his kill away from him. It was a not too common practice to take another's job, but it did happen and it was happening to him a _little_ too often. It occurred four times in the last month, and about twenty times that year. The irritating fact that someone would try to out do him was always out there, but he never thought that someone would actually move in on his kills this quickly…That lazily bastard…there was only one person it could've been and it got him closer and closer to the edge of killing a civilian. Unless he was asked to, he was not allowed to involve anyone that was outside of his world when doing a job. He had rules to follow, and if he were to mess up he'd his fate would be worse than death. He heard stories about what happened to those that received such punishment, and no one ever came back normal…But he didn't have to worry about such things, because he had one of the best shots in the world and he never killed mindlessly. It just didn't sit well with him to kill someone that wasn't apart of what he told to do, and if you wanted to give a name to what he was going it would most likely be called _'The Ninja Way' – To only kill or harm those in which his job required him to do so_. He knew it was old fashion to think in such a way, but he did have values that steamed far from the world he lived in. If only it hadn't changed so much over the last few years…he had lost friends along the way, many of which true names still remained a mystery to him. That was another thing about the whole 'representing a character' your true name was lost to those around you. In the real world you went by one thing, the name given to you by birth…however…when you around those who were like you, your name would be stripped away. This was to prevent others from being hunted down; families were killed and loved ones were ruthlessly torn apart if someone's name was ever found out by the enemy, and that was enough to send even the best of people over the edge. It was another sad fate that could befall anyone…but he had survived this long and didn't feel like messing up that bad just yet.

Quickly getting up, he flung the door to the roof of the building open, intending to find the person responsible for taking his rent money. Sprinting down the stairs, he found that since he was on the very top level of the building that it was probably best to jump, only stopping when he reached the right floor. He guessed he needed to free fall for about three to five seconds to reach the right one, but the problem was his grip. At the rate he would be falling there was a fifty percent chance he'd let good because of the sheer amount of weight that come with him (not to say he was that heavy), basically meaning that if the jump was wrong his hands would slip and his head would be creaked open on the beautifully shined marble floor below. It was a small detail that could be taken care of instantly; reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pair of gloves and slipped them on. They weren't anything special, just normal gardening gloves given to him by his informant…or so they seemed. On the very surface of the palm was a specially made material that would stick to damn near anything, excluding skin and the other glove. Leaping over the edge of the staircase, he let himself fall for a few seconds, grabbing the railing to the forty-fifth floor just as he was about to pass it. That horrible falling sensation was something he never got use to, nor was it something he enjoyed. The pit of his stomach also agreed with him, wanting nothing more then to reject everything he'd eaten that day. But he wouldn't allow it…he was going to find the bastard responsible for his losses.

Pulling himself up over the railing, he kicked the nearest door in not caring if he made the guy run. The building was condemned; it was going to be knocked down on that day, which made it the perfect place for snipping someone. It use to belong to a very wealthy tycoon, one who invested all of his money into an idea everyone thought would be a great success. But alas, he went bankrupt leading to the closing of all of the tycoon's businesses and basically sending his entire family into ruins…his family. Tightening his fist a little, he thought about what his mother and father had to go through because such a mistake was made. The woman his father loved grow cold, showing her true colors as the gold-digger she truly was; it had become a common sight to see the blonde wench scolding his father for losing so much money in one go. He hated her…but no matter how much he told his father, the man never lost fate in her. As a boy he never understood why he didn't kick the woman out on the street, and hell, even now he didn't understand. The woman was not his real mother so therefore he saw no reason to keep her around; his real mother was killed in a mugging while walking home one night, ever since then he never saw a single whore his father brought in as his mother. His old man was too trusting, always believing what people said and never looking past the persona that was presented to him. It was one of the many reasons why he drove himself to suicide. It was a shame someone like that had to be used so much, but even upon finding out that he was the man would never hold a grudge. Maybe he did all of this to teach his son something, like the value of 'turning the other cheek'…bull.

If he was going to 'turn the other cheek' he wouldn't be trying to kill the bastard that had been taking all of his jobs, and he wouldn't be loading up his handgun with a new clip. He was a peaceful person most of the time, but this had irritated him for far too long. The one he was going after barely had any information on them, only leaving behind a name and nothing more. It was a name that he'd heard of before; one that struck fear into even the most masculent or men…

The Mad Hatter…

They appeared out of nowhere, seemingly not attached to anything, be it his world or some sort of corporation, but strangely took orders from both. That's how the pyramid of power worked; at the very top were the corporations, they controlled the money and assigned the jobs that were given out to those who they found qualified enough to take them on. Below them were the S class players, those who acted like they didn't give damn about corporations, but were completely loyal to them without question. To become an S class player you must give up all of your freedom, basically becoming a dog on a very short leash. It was a life that he didn't prefer in the slightest, because that meant being stripped of literally everything. Name, identity, life, freedom…all of it was taken away and you were reduced to nothing but a mere number. Along with a little brainwashing, all of this was to prevent any rebellion against the people that they worked for. For those brave enough to pick such a life were branded with the digit they were assigned, letting the world know that you were no longer a person…but a piece of property. That kind of life just wasn't his cup of tea, which was why he was an Alice Player. This basically meant he was the lowest person on the pyramid, but that also meant he had the most freedom compared to an S class player. Alice Players would be given jobs to do, but it was actually up to them how they were carried out or if they carried out at all. Of course he was treated like dirt from the higher ups, but at lest he could carry on with his normal life. No…it wasn't normal…

But this guy…he didn't belong anywhere, and there was no telling what he was. Just because the guy owned the name 'The Mad Hatter' did not mean he was a part of his world. He knew how the old The Mad Hatter worked; he'd earned the name by being a ruthless killing, sometimes going overboard with jobs leading to serious injuries or death to others. The older player's weapons of choice were knives, and just about anything with a sharp edge on it. He had the fastest hands when it came down to knives, and his accuracy was unmatched in his class. That was another thing that had changed over time; originally there was only one class…'weapons used to kill', but as time when one it was slip into to two. Range weapons were, like the title stated, those that required a little distance from the user and the target, on the other hand close-combat weapons were used when the target was at lest in arm's lengths away. The old Mad Hatter was damn near the master of both types, and to do so was a feat not many could accomplish. Some people could only handle the strenuous training that went along with one of the types, but seeing someone that old achieve something like was damn near amazing. The life expectancy for player in his world was about 30, but the old Mad Hatter had added an extra five years to his (information given to him by his informant). But it wasn't surprising given how talented the man was…

But the new Hatter…it was obvious that the old one had died, because this guy was nothing like the other…or rather he seemed to be trying to be. The guy belonged to no one, and thus made him a ronin of sorts. That was dangerous…to have someone with potential that doesn't seem to know their place could only cause problems. The guy could've been considered a common killed since they were not given orders to shoot anyone, and that just pissed him off even more. He needed to do something…and he was.

Quickly running into the room, he looked around and found it seemingly empty. Cocking his run, he held it down and slowly began to walk around; people ran all the time, but the guy seemed like he had a little more pride then other, so he wasn't going to just turn his back as quickly as the others. The room was dark and rather large, the only thing lighting it up was the rays of sun that had managed to creep in through the partially boarded up windows. The room use to be a work space for an office, and it did make it a rather good place for snipping, practicing, or just loafing around. To prove his point even further there was an oddly placed couch sitting on the corner of the room. It ha probably been moved there by a few kids that wanted their own space, or it had been moved there because someone had some sort of sexual fantasy they wanted to play out.

As soon as he saw movement out of the corner of his left eye, he quickly spun around and pointed his gun straight out in front of him. He wasn't wearing his eye patch today so it made his sight even better; it wasn't like he needed to have one since there was nothing wrong with his eyes…somewhat. They were, however, completely heterochromatic meaning that one was a totally different color from the other. His mother was the same way, her left being green while the other was hazel. His were exactly the same as her, which was probably why his father never really liked to look him in the eye after she passed. The eye patch he owned was nothing more then fashion accessory; now it wasn't one of those old fashion ones that pirates worse, no, no, it was one of the more modern ones with the straps that went across the face. He wore it over his right eye, not really sure why he preferred it.

Looking around, he found that all was still once more. That didn't mean he'd let his guard down, and he'd learned the hard way that just because it was quiet didn't mean no one was there. Stepping back a little, he let his sense of hearing take over complete and tried to listen for any sign as to where the guy was. He had gone through too much torture because of this guy, and he wasn't going to let him go…but he did. It only took him a slit second to miss the sound of feet hitting the ground rather hard, heading near the end of the room. Jerking his head over to one of the windows, he saw a figure dressed in all black break through the boards and jump out of the building. Quickly racing over to it, a quick look over the side showed that there was no trace of the guy in sight. On a few piece of the broken glass were a few drips of blood, meaning that the guy hadn't really thought about his escape route that much…but he was still alive. Slamming his hand against the wall he cursing loudly; how could he have missed that?! He'd basically let the person he was pursing go, and he had no one to blame but himself. Groaning, he leaded against a wall and tried to think of a better to go about this. Luring him out was the main problem, and unless he was taping his computer for jobs, there was no way for him to find him.

He jumped a little when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, completely forgetting he hadn't turned it off. Looking at the name of that was currently flashing on the screen he cursed again; he was supposed to be somewhere else right now…a track meet. It was Saturday so he was expected to be there on time, though he wasn't one of the competitors. His cousin was on the local collage team, and though he was not the best, he still loved to run. If he didn't arrive before the last race, he was sure to be scolded; the way he actually planned out the day was to first snip the official then waltz right into the meet and watch whatever was left of the races. But that bastard had taken up more time than he wanted, so now he needed to explain why he was gone for such a long time. Why did it have to be like this?

--

"Late!" Yelled a young long haired girl holding a whistle, looking as if she wanted his head on a silver platter. He had so wanted avoid this conversation, but alas, he couldn't do such a thing. Before he came to the field he needed to put everything with him away, because come on, a very powerful man was just killed and he would've looked rather suspicious if he came in the way he was. He knew doing this was going to conflict with the time he wanted to be there even more, and he regretted it as soon as he set foot near the stands. The girl was two years younger then he was, but still managed to rule over him like he was some sort of dog somehow. She was the couch of the team, and according to his cousin, was entrusted with it when her brother left to become some sort of mad scientist or whatever. She was relatively nice, but her training routines were brutal by anyone's standards. She admitted that he actually obtained all of her ideas from her brother, and that made him seriously question what was up with this family. From training in the snow to holding practice in the middle of the night, it all apparently did the team good because they were top ranked in the nation.

Raking his fingers through his vermillion hair, he tried to get a few words in over her ramble about how 'being there for people was important' and that 'he should be ashamed at himself' but he just couldn't. That's was her specialty…sending people on a guilt trip that would make you want to crawl into a deep cave and die. But luckily he was somewhat immune to her attacks now, only feeling slightly terrible about himself. He had enough on his mind right now, and blocking out most of what she was saying just seemed right. Looking over at the track he could see that another race was just about to start up; his cousin had been a part of the track team since his junior year in high school. A lot happened that year, and that was probably why he had joined the team in the first place. For starters his father died…or rather his adopted father had. His cousin wasn't a part of his family by blood, and it did indeed explain why he acted so different compared to his other relatives. He was taken in by uncle ten years ago, and there actually wasn't a better person for the job. His uncle was a lot like his father, and seeing that they were brother's he could see why. The two of them had a rather good relationship, never forgetting to keep in contact with each other or that family meant everything. Of course his whore of a step-mother didn't like the fact that his father would converse with other relatives, but she really had no say in what he did.

He still remembered meeting his cousin for the first time; his father had invited them over in the middle of summer because 'why not spend a hot day with relatives?' It had gotten much warmer than it usually did, which gave them the perfect excuse to use their pavilion. It wasn't all that big, but it was enough to hold at lest seven people. There was a small table placed in the center of it, as well as three ivory couched around it. While the three adults sat and chatted, his step-mother being a fake as she could be, he and his cousin sat on the back steps of the house. They really didn't speak to each other for about twenty minutes, because the tension between the two was gradually increasing and they didn't know what to do about it. Since talking didn't seem to be an option, they just watched the scenery for a little. The backyard was filled with sounds of the nearby forest; he wasn't allowed to go into it, but he could still hear all the strange sound like the cicadas high-pitch screams. He did find that sound so odd, but he also liked hearing it because it meant summer was here. His mother loved summer…she would take them to the beach, always smiling as she splashed in the water with him. He loved that smile…it was like a little beacon of hope that told him everything was going to be okay. But all of that changed after she died…his father refused to go to such places because he knew it meant remembering someone he was deeply in love with. The house had gotten much dark once she was gone, and wasn't really anything that could be done to lighten it up.

Once something was said between the two, it was nothing more than a question…He couldn't very well call it a stupid question because he was told that there was no such thing, but it seemed a little random. Lifting his head a little, with eyes still glued to the ground, his cousin asked if his 'mother was gone too'. He simply nodded, not seeing why he should hide something like that. At this point he was completely numb, he didn't care about much at this point in his life and knew that kind of thinking would lead him places he didn't want to go. He heard his cousin say he didn't have a mother either, and he felt he didn't know what to say. Of course he didn't have a mother; he was nothing but an orphan…someone thrown away for a reason that was unknown. Upon telling him this he received a blank stair followed by nothing but tears. He back up a little, completely nowhere of what he had done. He had only spoke the truth, so why was he crying?! Becoming irritated with the whole situation he began to yell at him, telling him to stop crying because at lest his mother was still alive. At lest she was somewhere in the world, but his mother was six-feet-under. At lest his mother was enjoying her life somewhere, laughing, crying and just being happy in general…his mother couldn't do that. He was so incredibly pissed off…how could he cry like that?! Tears shouldn't be wasted on matter like that; tear should be shed for those who weren't coming back, those whose smile would never bee seen again…like his mother. After a few minutes his cousin's voice stop, but could still hear crying. Where was it coming from? Rubbing his own face he found he was the source…he was crying. This wasn't right…he wasn't supposed to be feeling anything…he was supposed to be numb! He wasn't supposed to be showing any signs that he acknowledged the pain he felt in his heart, because it'd taken him such a long time to bottle everything up. He cried harder as everything started to come out at once, just wanted it all to stop.

Looking up from the ground he found his cousin patting him on the head, tears completely gone. He couldn't look into his eyes…god he felt so horrible about himself…Upon hearing a small voice say 'it's okay' he couldn't help but cry harder. Why was he taking pity on him? He shouldn't have been looking at him with sympathy in his eyes…he was supposed to hate him. He didn't want to get close with anyone else, in fear that they might lose them in some horrible way. It was a horrible way of thinking, pushing people away for their own safety, but that was the only thing his traumatized mind could think of. He immediately latched onto his cousin, burying his face in his chest and just crying. He didn't want to show this side to anyone, but it just came out and there was nothing he could do about it; for him doing something like this made him believe that it put shame to his mother's name, that it…disgraced what his mother stood for.

To make a long story short, the two of them just talked after that, mostly about what they had lost. That was such an odd day…he might've been thirteen at the time, but the whole day was still stored vividly away in his mind. It was a really profound moment after his mother died, because it made him remember that she wasn't the kind of person that wanted him to act like that. All she ever wanted was for her family to be happy, and pretending not to feel anything was not granting her wish. She wanted them to smile, to be happy…not mourn her death and act like a shell.

"Wait…where's Allen? Isn't he supposed to be running?" He said, looking around the track and seeming his cousin no where.

"Idiot, that's why I called you! He said he wasn't feeling well so he went to infirmary…I had to call you because he was locked in the bathroom the last time I checked on him…" She said, crossing her arms obviously not pleased with the situation. Looking a little stunned at her, he shook his head a little; was he really not feeling well? It was rare that Allen would lie about not wanting to run, so it seemed like a legitimate reason.

"You have to make him come out…" She said, tone saying that she wasn't asking.

"I know, I know…" He said while walking off.

"Hay, Rabi!" She called, "That guy came back again…"

Ht slowed down did not stop…why the hell had he come back? Rabi knew he'd royally screwed up by not killed the damn politician, but did _he_ really need to come and rub it in his face? Every time he 'completed' a job he'd be visited by his boss's S class player, because they wanted to make sure he didn't screw up after the fact. It was rather easy for an Alice Player to mess up after a big job, be it by getting seen, accidentally letting the fact that they did the job slip to someone on the outside, or forgetting to 'clean up' after themselves. If it happened, it happened, and the S class players would have to take damage control. No one was supposed to know about a secret world filled with killers, it would make the entire country…hell, the world going into panic mode. The last thing he wanted was to be hunted down and being labeled a murderer…he wasn't a murderer.

Once inside the building, he walked to the infirmary, finding it a little difficult because he wasn't use to coming into the school on the right side. Allen's collage campus was huge; to put it simply, it was a small town dedicated to studies, sports, and just general space. When he first head that his cousin was applying there he thought he'd gone mad…he'd heard about how much he hated wondering around his high school, so why did he want to attend a school that's classes were half a mile away? Now Allen wasn't just a track runner, he was an artist as well and a pretty damn good one. But being the humble bastard that he was, thought nothing of and said he was mediocre. He really didn't like people telling him he was good at something; Allen said it was because it meant he had to be up to someone's standards and expectations, though that didn't sound like a big deal he didn't want to be like that. He wanted to create something only because he wanted to and not because someone was basically making him a slave, forcing him to 'become better'. He was so strange…but Rabi had to admit that he was something special.

Upon reaching the right door, he slowly opened the door so as to not scare anyone that was inside. But that wasn't a problem…there wasn't anyone in the room, giving it a strangely eerier quality to it. He walked over to the bathroom, knocking on the door a little once over. Rabi had only been in the infirmary once before, having picked up his cousin up because he had twisted his ankle. It was a rainy day and he was on a very irritating job that dealt with a runner; the redhead had to chases after a drug dealer that wasn't too cooperative. He'd backed the guy into a corner and had already shot him three times in the legs, right arm, and shoulder. After chasing the guy for about twenty minutes he just wanted it to be over. He hated it when something so simple took so long to do, because it meant he could've been doing something much better with his time. Just as he was about to pull the trigger his cell when off, making him groan a little; he knew the guy wasn't going to run anymore, so why not answer it? Pulling it out he checked the name and was somewhat surprised to see it was his cousin's school. What had he gotten himself into now? Flipping it open, he began to converse with the nurse, being told exactly what was doing on. Apparently while training in the gym had been tripped and taken quite the fall, so he had to be taken home. Allen didn't live in a dorm on campus, one reason being that he didn't have enough money to pay for one. If getting in wasn't much of a problem enough, he didn't want to reach into his bank account again and pull out a ridiculous sum of money, that's not to say he couldn't do he just didn't want to. His family was rich, he knew this, but he didn't want to ask for something he could've earned on his own…that's just the kind of person he was.

As soon as he closed the phone, he shot the man in the head and started to walk off. He needed to go home because he looked a damn mess, and walking into the nurse's office with blood stains on him wasn't an option. The last thing he wanted was to scare his cousin into thinking he was an axe murderer or something. He couldn't tell Allen about what he did for a living…if he did Allen would've been monitored and constantly followed. Wanting to make sure his cousin didn't speak about said confession to anyone, and his he did…he would be killed on sight. In order to keep the world they live in from being discovered ALL those who were not a part of it needed to be silenced, be it through 'disappearing' or actually killing them. He didn't want him going through that, nor did he want to lose one of the few relatives that made him happy.

Once home, Rabi quickly went up to his apartment and into his room. He didn't care what he wore, just as long as it didn't make him look like he'd just killed someone. It didn't take him long to pick something out, discarding the clothes he would hand wash in his clothing bin. He did own a car, he didn't decided not to use it most of the time since walking just seemed better. But this would be one of those few exceptions since it was raining, and lugging Allen all the way back to his house just didn't seem like a good idea. Rabi had moved to the same town as Allen after his father died, since he his cousin didn't have any other family that live near him. He was more then thrilled to have the redhead at lest be in the same general area he was, since the drive to his place was about three hours. It was quite the trip, but Allen didn't mind braving it for some reason…and the redhead found out why a year later.

After driving on the road with crazy people, he finally reached Allen's school. Getting out of the car, he pulled out his umbrella and popped it open. The rain had gotten harder and he felt like his mood was slowly sinking because of it; it wasn't supposed to rain today, and his day just seemed to get worse by each passing second. He wasn't mad that his cousin for twisting his ankle, but this wasn't the first time he'd done it. Allen had injured himself before on the track, but he did not need to be taken home. It was the fact that the nurse had told him that his cousin 'had been tripped' opposed to 'he had tripped' told him that he was there to do more than just pick him up. Now Allen didn't usually have problems with the other students, but every now and then he'd call and ask if the redhead could come over because he felt bad about school. How someone could come to hate Allen was beyond him, and he truly wanted to beat the face of whoever it was in for messing with _his_ cousin. Putting down his shield against the elements, he walked to the office so he could figure out just where the nurse's room was. But luckily for him on his way there he managed to find it, which was actually located three doors down from where he had entered. It made the trip he thought he was going to take much easier. Just as he opened the door he was nearly knocked down by none other then Allen; he told him that the nurse had gotten the wonderful idea to inject him full of painkillers, at which point he begin to run (or hobble) over to the door to try and escape. Sighing a little, he told her that an injection wasn't necessary. He knew how much his cousin hated needles, even when they played 'surgeon' he'd always opted to not be injected with anything (it was just a mechanical pencil and didn't even break the skin).

Kneeling down he told Allen to get on his back so he could carry him out. The nurse said that she could provide them with a wheelchair so he wouldn't have to strain himself, but he just declined. He would've much rather done everything in one go than make two trips, since returning the wheelchair just made things difficult. Allen also agreed and climbed onto Rabi's back. He wasn't all that heavy, thought the redhead sometimes worried that he wasn't eating enough. He just couldn't help but act like a nosy parent sometimes, always checking in when he felt like something was amiss. Standing up he began to leaving, telling his cousin that he'd have to hold the umbrella. Luckily the rain had somewhat slowed down but he still had to sprint; the only parking space he could find was no where near the school, and wanting his cousin to not be out in the cold for too long he tried to best to get as quickly as possible. He could run just as fast Allen, but he didn't seem to think you needed to compete in such a thing. That wasn't to say he didn't like what he was doing being on a team and all, he just thought that one should only run if they are being chased or for that matter chasing someone else…and he did that quite often. After finally reaching the car Rabi got in, but not before placing Allen gently in the back seat. Before starting the car he looking into the rear view mirror and asked if there was anything he should know. After a long silence all he got was nothing more then a head shake. He would leave it at that since he knew his cousin would come around sooner or later.

"Hay, Allen, it's me" He said, knocking on the door once more. He heard something drop followed by a small 'o-okay' telling him that Allen had probably fallen asleep, or was doing something else he didn't want to think about. As soon as he opened the door the redhead was nearly tackled when his small cousin latch onto his waist. He did such things from time to time, mostly when he felt lonely.

"What were you doing in there?" Rabi asked.

"It's cooler in there…" He said, holding the redhead a little tighter.

"Well you do feel a little warm." He said, left hand gently placed against his forehead. He felt Allen relax against his hand as his grip slightly increased…as well as the blush on his face. Quickly pulling his hand away the redhead straightened himself out, clearing his throat as he did so. He didn't know what to say anymore, given that Allen had just shown his affection for him in another awkward way. Yes, his cousin had a crush on him, and the truth didn't come out until early that year. Needless to say the redhead knocked quite off kilter when he heard such news, considering where they were and what they were doing. It was New Year Eve and the two of them were sitting near the redhead's couch watching TV; in about five seconds the current year was about to be forgotten, all mistakes erased and everyone starting off with a clean slate. They were both snuggled up under a blanket taken from Rabi's bed, and their anticipation was growing as the seconds ticked away. The redhead noticed that his cousin was inching his away closer to him, but he really didn't think much of it since it was rather cold outside. It was the last day in December and soon to be the first day in January, so it was still pretty cold out. But…there was still something odd about it…and it wasn't until the clock struck zero that he found out. He felt something wet against his cheek, but he wasn't really sure what it was. The feeling was warm and didn't hurt in the slightest, so that probably meant he had nothing to worry about…but he still needed to know what it was. Upon turning he was met with Allen's lips against his own.

Shocked was an understatement at that point, and his body, being the backstabbed that it was, refused to move. He was pushed down just a little, and had his waist straddled in such a way that he could…_feel_ his cousin against him. At first he thought it was nothing then a dream, seeing that he did indeed have one too many glasses of wine that night. He had been known to not hold anything alcoholic very well, and he also knew that Allen was also known for the same thing. So maybe this was a byproduct of that…but he was proven wrong when he felt a hand start to travel up his shirt. It was then his body decided to go 'oh wait…' and stop his cousin from continuing further. Pushing him away somewhat, he asked for an explanation to his cousin's actions. What he got was Allen burying his face in his chest and saying he 'liked him' though he couldn't understand too much since he was muffled. At this point Rabi knew that his cousin was not related to him by blood, but he was still his cousin. He was a part of his family and falling in love with him would feel…a little strange. As he continued to listen to Allen's muffled explanation he learned that this was something he'd been feeling for quite some time. That made him feel horrible…how could he reject the feelings of someone who had loved him for so long? Not that he had any intentions of rejecting or accepting him. He wasn't sure if he was stalling or if he genuinely didn't know what to do in the situation but he did know one thing…he really needed Allen off of him because it wasn't making his thought process any better. Upon telling him this, his cousin blush and slowly back away clearly seeing that he had overstepped his boundaries. Sighing a little, he told Allen that he really needed to think things through before he jumped into a relationship…

And he had kept Allen waiting for _seven months_…

He felt like such a jerk for postponing his answer to so long, but he just wasn't sure of himself. Letting someone into his life would mean he'd feel even guiltier about the fact that he was lying to them, or for that matter that he would be perceived as a common killer if they ever found out. The redhead didn't want Allen to lose so much faith in him because he came home covered in blood, had been gone for several days without notifying him, or had forgotten to put all of his weaponry away. Rabi kept all of his guns, knives, and swords in two places; the island in the middle of the floor was used for more than just chopping food. When a small button underneath was pressed the top would pop up, revealing array of fire arms that would make any spy tear up with envy. In his room behind the wall across from his bed, if the painting moved in such a way a small 'click' sound could be heard in the room. This meant that the small door behind his dresser was unlocked. In there one would find three different swords, one of which given to him as a gift. Surprisingly, his father was the one that had brought it for him; it was twelfth and his father actually told him that he could by anything he wanted, though he knew that was somewhat of a lie. As the passed store after store he found that nothing perked his interest…except one thing. While passing an antique shop he tugged on his father's sleeve, signaling for him to stop. Something had caught his eye and he wasn't sure if it was because of its placement, or if it was because of the object in general. It was an old Japanese blade that, according to the sign, a very famous samurai used. He didn't care if it was or was not used by someone who sliced through countless armies, or if it was used as nothing more than a cooking utensil he just needed to have.

The sheath and sword were separated so everything could be seen. The sheath was completely black, the only thing that shown color was the small golden fu lion that was carved near the opening. As for the sword itself looked, it too looked entirely black, from hilt to the tip of the blade and that was very unusual in Rabi's young eyes. He thought a blade such as that was rather rare, thus making it a very special item. Upon telling his father about how much he wanted said sword he was given the 'I'm not too sure…' look, which told him that a little reasoning was in order. The redhead told his father that have something like that didn't mean he was going to use, or if it did, that all he have to do is enroll him classes that taught him how to handle it properly. He had such a way with words…his uncle would always used the old saying 'he could sell ice to Eskimos' to explain that the redhead could get out of damn near anything. Rabi wasn't sure where he got said talent from, but he did know it came in handy whenever he wanted something (and surprisingly he didn't ask for too much). His father gave him one more disapproving looked before walking into the antique shop. He mentally patted himself on the back for convincing his father to buy him a potentially deadly weapon, but no, after a few minutes his father came out smiling a little, sword in hand. Rabi knew why the man was happy…something like this was going to become more than just a present. Oh no…something of this magnitude was going to serve son well in the future…

But Rabi did not use the sword…because it meant so much to him…

"Well come on, I might as well take you home since the last race is probably over" He said, patting his cousin on the head. With a quick nod, Allen told him that he needed to do something before he left and that he would meet him outside. With a little ruffle of his hair, he watched as the redhead head left and upon him closing the door he quickly gripped his side. He hadn't expecting anything to go the way it did and now he was paying the price. He slowly walked back into the bathroom and pulled out a duffle bag with his initials on the side of it. Pulling it out he unzipped it revealing a number of things that weren't all sports related; among them were black long sleeved shirt with a rip in the side of it, a pair of black leather gloves with a few holes in them, and a black trench coat that also had a number of holes in it. Allen thought the idea of himself wearing all black on such a day was ludicrous, but he needed to and that's what mattered. Reaching in he pulled out a cloth which the blood on it had yet to dry, and began to lift up his side. He pressed it against the wound on his torso and winched a little, wishing that he had been a little more careful with his actions. Opening one of the cabinets, he pulled out a little surgical tape and placed it over the cloth to keep it in place. Closing it, he zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to sleep everything off. The news would be all over this, and soon the truth about the man would be revealed. He didn't care if he had disrupted the order or either worlds…he been through enough to despise both. Bitter was not the right word for how he felt, because what he felt was much stronger than that…He was only putting up a false front so he wouldn't be found out, and as much as it pained him, he found that there's was no other way to live…even if it meant lying to Rabi about who he was. After all…

The Mad Hatter had to make sure people didn't know about him…because things could've gotten…_a little out of hand_…

'_I'll kill the bastard the next time…I'll make sure of it…' _He said, a smirk slowly forming on his face.

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	2. The Hatter

**A/N:** Thanks for reading

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This was boring him…but that did not mean the excitement inside of him had died completely. The hunt was always enjoyable, chasing after someone like they were nothing more than a frightened wildebeest. That look in their eye…it screamed out to him, and he loved hearing that sound. At first it startled him how much pleasure he took in makeing people have that look, but he grew use to it, understanding that it was just a result of how he was trained. There was no replacement for the man that taught him everything he knew, and that was reason he looked down on everyone but his teacher. They were lower then he was…too stupid to open their eyes and really see what their world was really like. It was rotten, so much so that innocence no longer existence and the blind where allowed to lead the blind. How could such a place become like this? Simple, it was because of the people running it and what their true intentions were. Corporation never dealt in things that were 'clean', always getting the hands of their employees dyed in blood while they sit back and watched from the sideline. That kind of life was inexcusable, and even though he hated it there was nothing he could do. He was skilled, but to single handily take down every major Corporation in the world was something only done in fairytales…and he was living in no such place. He wasn't stupid or naive enough to believe that feats such that were possible, and he had gotten more than enough reality checks to know that as a fact.

All the people he could've turn to were dead or had betrayed him…all but one. This person he was sure wasn't going to leave him to die, never looking back even as he cried their name. He'd gone through that once, and it was the defining moment in his life…the one point that made everything come together, shaping who he was. It was raining the day they met, and it was also raining the day his world truly crumbled. He was thirteen when he became an _Alice_ (someone who was lost and needed to be shown the way), because his mentor said that was the age he had started and it was the only time he could learn the things he was going to teach. Anyone younger then that age would've never taken anything seriously, but upon reaching that 'early teen' mode the thought process changed. The mind wasn't mature enough to become considered an adult, but it was young enough to still learn things that were 'hard' or 'challenging'. At first he didn't understand what his mentor had in store for him but he soon found out over the next few months…and his life was never the same. He was taught the art of killing, to expel all the fear in his heart and turn it into instinct that would in turn make him into a person only seen in movies. He was already fast being the top ranked kid in his class (everyone had to run at the time), but since something like that did not need improving they were not going to focus on it. His eyes, however, needed a lot of work; he was nearsighted and wearing glasses while on a mission was out of the question. The best (and fastest) way for that to improve was to get a pair of contacts. He didn't really liked the idea of cheap plastic being put in his eyes, but if it was the advancement of his training he would do damn near anything.

Walking into the optometrist felt so awkward; he knew that man that ran the place since he had been going there since the age of seven. He'd worn glasses for most of his life and before his mother…left him, she told him that he had inherited his father's bad eyes. His father was never talked about much when he was around his mother, always saying that 'the man left and would never come back' or that 'he was unimportant'. She always seemed to have such a grudge against him and always turning things off like the phone so 'he couldn't call'. He didn't understand…why couldn't he see his father? Was he really that bad of a man? It wasn't until a year after he was adopted that he was told the truth, and upon hearing it felt more worthless then ever. He always knew his mother had him young, but he was never given any details. She was in her last year if high school when she met his father, who was ten years older than her. They started dating a year after they met and from that point on almost everything he was told was based on assumptions. She told the police that he was nothing but a manipulate bastards that raped her, while he stated that she was the one that had acted 'not like herself' and had force him down. Ultimately Allen was the byproduct of all the angst and anger, but the story didn't end there…He was also told that he was almost…gotten ride of before he was even born. No one knew why she decided to keep him, but just that thought was enough to make him want to shrivel away and die. Allen was in the middle…he had always been in the middle even before he was born. No one cared about him, only about their petty arguments and stupid lies. He didn't care about who was right, who did what to the other or why they were acting the way they did…he just wanted someone to notice what he wanted the most…

But that was in the past…

His mentor said that things like that no longer mattered, and if dwelled on for too long it would rot the heart. Even though he was going to become a killer, he wasn't going to become a heartless one…that was something he wasn't going to teach. To become heartless was just as bad as becoming an S class player, giving up ones soul just to complete a job and have a higher position on the pyramid. At first Allen didn't understand why having a heart was necessary, seeing that not caring about the enemy came with the job. He was slapped behind the head and told that understanding the enemy was the first step to killing them; sometimes he'd be given a job that didn't require him to kill right there on the spot. When assigned these jobs one would have to either infiltrate the targets living area or become closer to them. Allen questioned why said jobs existed and he was greeted with another slap. Places such as heavily guarded hotels with wealthy business men flaunting their money were easy to access, but things like homes or apartments were a different story. Even thought information was given about the targe, field work was part of it and if not done correctly the whole mission was going to down the drain. It wasn't about acting when it came to those kinds of situations; it was about acting completely like yourself and if the heart died your true self died was well. To lose that part of you was the same thing as being dead on the inside, and there was no other option but leave the world forever or become an S class. There weren't many that disowned the world they grew so fond of, but those who did found it hard. Some would jump whenever a phone would go off, thinking that it was their boss with a job. Others would be constantly on edge because they knew somebody had gotten wind of their 'leaving'. Players went after those who had left the world seeking to prove one simple thing…they were better. It was a sick thing when it happened, but it rarely did now a days since a new law had gone up saying that these people had earned some time off.

But there was something that still confused him…why would someone willingly become an S class player? Everything someone loved was taken away, family, friends, everything. Why did people want this? It was simple…power. S class players were by far the strongest fighters in the world, and there was no one out there to prove them wrong. They were trained rigorously after being brainwashed so they would hold no flaws in the eyes of the people who owned them. They were dogs…nothing more nothing less. But the power…it was so alluring it drew people to it like flies to a light. After pestering his mentor for such a long time about how they obtained their power, he finally answered. To let everything go, to value nothing was their source of power and to never have a single thing to lose was why they fought the way they did. They didn't hold back and few players dared to challenge them, and those that did never came back unscathed. Allen taught that doing such a thing wasn't all that bad, seeing that he didn't have much in his life. He obviously didn't tell his mentor this and decided to go about become one when he was trained a little more. So three years later he was ready to leave his teacher behind, but when that day finally came he was…a little surprised. He only really knew one company that was a part of the world he was just inducted into and strangely enough…they knew he was coming. When asked how they told him that the entire company had been keeping an eye on his mentor for quite some time, and that they just happened to stumble upon him. Allen was slightly at a loss of word…was his mentor really that much of a problem? He'd been told before by him that he had killed a few people that he shouldn't have, but that it was 'purely accidentally'. Whatever the reason was Allen still felt like he was supposed to join even if it went against his mentor's wishes. When his mentor had found out about him going behind his back and trying to become an S class player he merely stood in silence, not looking as if he didn't know what to say…he looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't.

His first day of training was something that really needed some getting use to fast; he was the last person in his 'class' to catch on to things, and the instructors seriously thought about kicking him out. After apologizing multiple times for his lack of understanding they decided to give him a personal instructor. He felt like he was being treated like a child because of this, but it wasn't all bad…the person training him was nice and very considerate. He really didn't act like the other instructors and maybe it was that kindness that led to his…attraction of the older boy. It was somewhat strange, though it was in no way 'love at first sight' by any means. It took time getting uses to him, how he was more physical then the other solely because something like that was necessary for someone to truly learn. He didn't know how to take such a thing but he got use to it none the less, but it wasn't until he was basically pinned down and stripped that he knew something had gone noticed. At first he began to struggle since he, well, didn't know what the hell was going on. But when he was told that it was merely a sign of affection and that his feelings were not one-sided, the whole pinning didn't seem as bad anymore. He was ultimately taken by the person he felt so grateful too, and truly thought his future looked brighter than ever…but he was dead wrong. A day after he was given his numbers that were received on his lower back, a called that he'd needed help clean up a mess an Alice player started. It was odd that he was asked to do such a thing seeing that he had only joined a year ago, and given that he hadn't been full 'brainwashed' yet made him think that he wasn't the right guy for the job. He was loyal, but he still questioned everything that went on around him and that meant he need more time. So why were they giving him a mission so early? His lover reassured him that it was probably something small to test him, and if needed he would go along with him.

He was wrong…it was an all out gunfight and it was in no way _small_. Apparently the player had killed the leader of a very well know mafia group…in front of his subordinates. It was a stupid mistake on the player's part and now Allen needed to clean up the mess. He was rather good with a gun, but hiding behind a pillar waiting for the other side to run out of ammo wasn't really benefiting him. By his side was his lover, and the only person there offering him any kind of support. It he wasn't under such heavy gunfire he would've thought that everything was a dream. He liked the fact that he was there, since the adrenalin rushing through his veins was driving him insane, making him feel like he wanted to just run out in the middle of the fray. But…something about him had changed slightly. He never really looked at him nor did say much to him, but all was forgiven just because he was there. Most of his life he was always thrown aside, never being noticed by anyone unless he was died or gone…but not his lover. He was the only one who paid him any mind other then his mentor, and he was so grateful for it. There were times where he felt so worthless…like he really didn't belong anywhere and just wanted to die. But there he was, telling him that everything was going to be alright and that thinking such things wasn't good for him. It would sometimes scare him how much he hated himself, loathing his very existence and blaming it for anything wrong in his life. There were many a days where he would just stare at a gun, contemplating if he really wanted to pull the trigger. The closest he had gotten was the barrel pressed against his temple The only reason he didn't end it right there was because his cousin had unexpectedly paid him a visit. It was odd for him to come over unannounced which told him that it probably wasn't his time to go, or he was just delaying the inevitable. He couldn't tell his cousin about what he was going to do or what kind of person he really was. That person…he didn't want that person looking at with eyes filled with fear…no…he wouldn't have it.

Finally deciding to move, Allen charged from his spot behind the tall pillar and ran directly into the strike zone. He knew it was stupid, but he had someone backing him up so there was nothing to worry about. Just as he brought his gun up to fire he was hit in the right shoulder by a bullet; he never knew they such a wound stung so badly nor did he know he would bleed so much. He was slightly stunned by this but continued on regardless of the pain that had over taken his arm. No matter how much he wanted to scream he wouldn't, he needed to get this job done because failing was out of the question. But what would happen if he died? No…he wasn't going to think such things, not now. He would die after the fact, but right now he would kill the people he was told to. That what kind of life he needed to live…Allen thought maybe he had given up his soul but at lest he was with his lover. As another bullet pieced his skin he bit his bottom lip, not caring if he made it bleed. Allen was determined to kill those bastards no matter what, but he couldn't keep those horrible thoughts out of his mind...what if he died? What if he died? What if he died?! WHAT IF HE DIED?! He only looked away for second to try and expel such thoughts from his head…and then it hit him. He completely stopped in his tracks, dropping the gun he held making it give off a loud 'thunk' as it hit the ground. He never took what he was doing as a joke or saw any humor in it…but he knew that at that very moment someone was laughing at him. Looking down he would see that he was clearly shot in the side, dangerously close to a vital organ. Even if he the bullet hadn't hit anything important he was still losing too much blood, and the only thing he could do was fall to his knees. He tried to pull himself together and reach for his gun but was merely shot in the hand, derailing any plans he had of defending himself.

But…why was he alone? He knew he hadn't come alone, so where was his back up? Where was…where was his lover? Cradling his hand against his chest he jump a little when the sound of a different gun went off, watching as each of the men before him dropped one by one. There was so much blood and more than enough had gotten on him, making his stomach start to churn. It sickened him to see such a thing, but he didn't understand why…he was a killer, wasn't he? Why was he trembling when faced with what he was supposed to do everyday? He felt like his entire body was shutting down, unable to move because he was either paralyzed with fear or horrified at the fact that everything he had learned had just flown out the window. He wasn't supposed to be afraid of what he saw, but there he was…lying against the ground looking as white as a sheet as he witnessed the killing of seven men before him. If he was going to die that would've been the last thing he saw…not a loved one or anything pleasant…his failed mission would've been the last thing. When there was silence once more the sound of footsteps could be heard behind him, telling him that maybe help was finally on the way. Gathering what little strength he had left he tried to at lest bring himself to his knees, but only winces as the in his arm and hand made themselves known once more. It hurt so badly, but what hurt more was the fact that he wasn't admitting things to himself. Denial was his only friend at the moment and he knew giving in to such things was just a form of not grasping the true reality of things, but his mind was spinning around so much that he needed something to tell him that was he was experiencing wasn't the real deal. Looking up he saw his lover looking down on him both literally and figurative. Allen could see it in his eyes…the cold emotionless dark he'd never see before, and he wasn't sure why they were directed at him. He had done nothing wrong so he thought that he didn't deserve such a look. Reaching up, he desperately wanted to open his mouth and ask what he had done wrong, but he dare not open it in fear that all that would come out would be nothing more then screams.

When his hand was slapped away and his body kicked a few feet from where it originally was…he knew something was wrong. He was now on his back, looking up at the dark ceiling that held no color much like cold eyes that his lover now had. Both for some reason were held a coldness that shouldn't have been there in the first place, but still the two's gazes pierced him with such intensity. This is had to be a bad dream…but as much as he wanted to bury himself further in denial it was kicked out of him as soon as saw the barrel of a gun pointed straight at him. This wasn't a dream…it was the sick reality that he was placed in and there was no way out. What had he done?! Why was he about to be shot by…the person he loved…or thought he did? After a few seconds the gun was put away, and the figure of his lover slowly started to walk away. He heard a small 'don't bother coming back' as he left, further adding to his confusion. Rolling into his side he shakily got to his knees, ignoring the pain that was shooting through his hand. He wanted to say something, but when he opened his mouth nothing but sobs came out. What did he want to say? He mind was still spinning, only mindless babble being one of the few things he would think up. Questions upon questions were the only things that would come up clear, and he desperately wanted to know the answers to them. Squeezing his hand a little tighter he decided to try one more time…the last time…but it wasn't a question…it was a plea for something he knew he wasn't going to get back. _Please…Please don't leave me!_ It was the last thing he cried out as he blacked out. How could something like that gone so wrong?

He awoke in the three days later in a hospital room that was so brilliantly white he thought he'd blind himself, though total darkness didn't seem like all that bad of an idea. Looking over he could see that he had an I.V. jabbed into his arm and that his mentor was sitting in a chain across from him. Upon seeing him he couldn't help but breakdown right there. He had made such a foolish mistake that nearly cost him his life. His chest hurt so much, and the burning sensation deep inside the pit of his stomach wasn't making him feel any better. What made all of this even worse was the fact that he was still alive. This was the third time he'd been one the verge of death and the third time he'd avoided it, much to his dismay. Why wouldn't he die? Why was some unseen force allowing him to live when he clearly didn't want to? What else was there for him to do in the world?! Gripping his stomach Allen leaning over the edge of his bed and proceeded to vomit, feeling like he couldn't take it anymore. His life was just a joke and he would continue on living until the joke got old. It was his sin…As soon as he felt a hand on top of his should he couldn't bring himself to look. Allen knew who it was and couldn't bare to look his mentor in the face, because truth be told he couldn't face anyone anymore. He was betrayed by the one person he loved so much and he couldn't put what he was feeling into words. It was not depression that plagued him but something more, and what disturbed him to no end was the fact that he wasn't upset over it. He wasn't breaking down in front of the man that taught him because he was backstabbed by his lover…no…he was breaking down because he had failed. A mission like that meant moving up in the world, getting himself one step closer to become stronger. But now…he wasn't even allowed to go back now…he felt so irritated. His mentor asked him what he felt, and he simply answered 'mad as hell' since putting what he felt into words wasn't his strongest field. But then his mentor ask him something that he found rather odd…did he want revenge? Mustering up enough courage he looked over at him for a few minutes not needed too much time to think of what he wanted…

The answer was obviously a yes…

"P-Please! Stop this, I haven't done anything wrong!"

"…I could care less about what the hell you did…" Allen said to the man below him. He was currently straddling the hips of a very wealthy business executive (who was in fact a pedophile, thus him being in such a compromising situation), his gun firmly placed against the man's forehead. Another job stolen, another job he didn't care whether or not the rabbit he was taking them from got pissed off about. It just seemed more interesting to take from someone named after an animal opposed to an actually person. The White Rabbit was…the annoying character that shouted ridiculous lines in the story, always running around like an idiot because of his poor sense of time. Someone like that annoyed him greatly and the thought of catching him had crossed his mind a few times, but after nearly being shot by the guy a few days ago his mind was made up that he was a threat to what he was doing. The bunny had hopped around him one too many times, and now it was time for the lion to stop pretending he didn't notice. The rat was the enemy and no amount of training could tell him that actions needed to be taken. Allen knew that he wasn't taking things too far, just doing what was necessary to maintain his existence. There was only one reason why he wanted to live now and that was to exact his painful revenge on the people who had wronged him. Killing them wasn't going to be the only things he did…no…he was going to make them suffer. It wasn't enough that they had almost gotten him killed but they had the audacity to take away the one person he looked up to…his mentor.

Whenever someone was 'shot' in the real world it did not mean it was a mugging, or for that matter a crime committed by a deranged and slightly drunk person. If the words 'gun' and 'person' were ever used on the news there was a ninety percent chance that it was done by those bastard assassins. In the world there was no such thing as 'accidental' in the world people lived in, and whenever something like that happened questions needed to be asked. The one who had taught him everything he knew was unfortunately a victim of this. Knowing that something like this would happen one day he entrusted his name to his apprentice, telling him to 'honor everything he stood for, but pave the road with his own stones'. After his mentor died he felt like there was nothing that could really lift him back up from his hole in the ground, nor could he no longer confide in anyone about what he was feeling. Even if his cousin who he adored had moved into the town, he wasn't quite ready to open up…until three days after the funeral. He remembered that he had a job to do and he'd be dammed if something like that derailed him. He still had a heart which meant he was one step ahead of the corporation; it was a powerful ally because of its power to truly understand the world around it. It was the things that differentiated him from the S class players, and it was also the one thing that would guarantee him victory.

"W-Wait! I'll do anything, just please spare me!" The man below him yelled, getting on Allen's nerves more than he thought he would.

"Anything….?" He started, "Than answer me something..._why is a raven like a writing desk?_"

"W-Wha-"

"Time's up" He said, pulling the trigger. He had gotten use to the feeling of another blood in him, so he merely wiped it off of his face, licking his fingers as he did so. He wasn't an Alice anymore; he was considered a player because of the name he held and he was considered an S class player because of the digits on his back. He didn't care what he was called just as long as he fulfilled the job he was asked to do. Looking up he let the cold wet rain wash away everything that was left on him. He hated the rain…everything horrible that happened in his past happened in the rain, and he saw it as nothing more then a sign that the world hated for him. He once had the ridiculous thought that it was actually crying for him…yeah right! Why would it shed a single tear for him? If the world truly wanted to be forgiven then it would've needed bring back everything he'd lost…and he knew that was impossible. Looking over to his side a little he could see the shape of a small child standing near the entrance of the alley he was in. They were crying, sobbing something about a 'father' and didn't seem to make any sense whatsoever. The child looked to be about six or seven and didn't look like they were lost. So Allen came to the conclusion that the child must have belonged to man he had just killed, and therefore needed to be taken care of before he really did realize what was going on. He got up and slowly started to walk over to him; it was strange how he didn't notice the boy before and had let himself be seeing in the act. He was just a child…but he could still mess things up. Gently pressing his gun against the boy's head he noticed that the small child hadn't even acknowledged him yet, he just cried as he gazed over his father's bloody corpse. He hesitated…it was like him to do such a thing…but he found that this was a special case.

"…If you wish when the time comes…you may seek me out…" Allen said, lowering his gun, "But if you tell anyone what you saw here…I'll come and kill you, understand?"

The small child finally looked up at him, slowly nodding telling Allen that he did indeed understand the situation and what he was telling him. With that he left, placing his gun back into the inner pocket of his jacket. He didn't like killing children…so he opted to just let them go, knowing that they wouldn't be taken seriously if questioned. Allen didn't let his killer instinct take over all the time, making himself have a little self restraint when doing a mission. He knew the difference between right and wrong and used this knowledge to distance himself from the other people who were like him. He knew saying something like 'he was going to take them all down' wasn't was smartest thing to do, but he was going to make those that got in his way pay.

--

Rabi was wet tired, and sore as hell…not only had he been chased by a bunch of thugs, but he had to jump from roof-top to roof-top just to lose them. This was all that damn Hatter's fault…it wasn't until he was in the man's mansion that he overhead two of his bodyguards say that they had found that man's body in an alley downtown. The redhead listened further they said that his son was found alive at the scene, making Rabi believe that the crazed killed had kept him alive for a reason. Great, the last thing he wanted was a sympathetic killer taking his jobs away. It did shed a little brighter light on the guy, but he was still out there killing people without instruction. He decided that it would probably be best for him to leave, seeing that his job had once again been taken. Just as he started to leave, he head a loud 'intruder!' behind him meaning either someone else was here or he'd been found out. By the sounds of footsteps getting dangerously closer he could tell that it was obviously not someone else. Bolting for the nearest window, he tried his best to think of what exactly what he was going to do once outside. If there wasn't any kind of building of some sort next to the one he was in this would be nothing but a suicide attempt. Busting through the first window he saw he found that it was his lucky break; there just happened to be a flag pole near by so decided to jump for it. Grabbing it with just the right amount of force, he swung himself into an open window nearby. Once through he looked around noticing that he had landed in some sort of storage facility of some kind. But it wasn't until he looked a little closer that he found just what the building contained…weaponry.

Quickly getting up he sprinted to another window just in time; a bullet whizzed by his ears and he could curse the man for having such a large array of thing held up in one room. Did they say he had a kid? Jumping out of another window, he quickly grabbed the onto the edge of the roof across from the building he'd just leaped from, wishing he had time to put his gloves on. Scaling anything without his gloved was painful, because he wasn't some kind of super human that had a grip that could crush a diamond. New people coming into the game always thought that holding a gun gave them superhuman power and that they would be able to anything, but that wasn't the truth. Having a gun didn't give you power, instead it did the exact opposite. If one did not know how to use something with that much power in the right way it would only turn on them, showing that they were nothing but inexperienced. A user of weapons only became great once they understood that what they are holding isn't just a tool of destruction, but their best friend. The user and its weapon needed time to understand one another, and no matter how much you wanted it you couldn't rush it the process. It had taken two years for Rabi to understand how to wield a sword and gun correctly, and they had helped him out in many situations. But at that moment he would take out his gun to shoot anything because he was too busy jumping from roof to roof, trying his hardest to not get shot in the process. What really didn't make the situation any better was the fact that it just stopped raining, meaning that not only were the roof-tops wet but also slippery.

The redhead had almost lost his footing a few times while jumping, but as always he managed to get it back fairly quickly. Yes, it did have something to do with the fact that it had something to do with his extensive training he was given when he was younger, but that was another story for another time. Leaping onto another building he could clearly see the alley-way that was coming up rather soon and had to make a decision…jump down and hope there was a fire escape for him to latch onto, or take a right turn and keep building hoping. Luckily it didn't take him long too long to decided, having a bullet graze his shoulder speed up his thinking process. Of all the day he decided to wear a black tank top and camouflaged jeans. He really had no intentions of being at that mansion for too long, and he was damn sure he wasn't planning on being chased. This was another unfortunate event he would blame on the damn Hatter because the guy seriously needed a reality-check; he couldn't just run around and do as he pleases, because frankly it was going to tear his world apart. If people found out that there was someone running around without attachments to anyone was causing so much disorder there would no doubt be followers, anarchy would be inevitable. To have either world crumbled or to have one reign over the other was out of the question because the balance of power would've been thrown off completely, leaving those influenced by it in shambles. He wasn't going to let that happen because there was too much on the line, one thing being the only family he had left. If anything happened to his cousin he would most definitely go over the edge, leaving behind everything he stood for and going after everyone the person responsible care for. Too much had happened to the two of them over the past two years, and it had drawn them closer than before. Now the redhead wasn't the type to say their meeting was fated, but he could say that he was lucky they had. What made the whole 'deeply caring about Allen' somewhat horrible was the fact that he had yet to give his cousin a straight answer; to keep someone waiting seven months was unacceptable, but Allen didn't seem to mind being patient. It wasn't something he could answer with ease and that irritated him quite a bit. If he liked him he should tell him and if he didn't he didn't need to keep it in, right? So why couldn't he just say it?

Jumping over the ledge he found that he'd caught a luck break, landing himself in an empty dumpster. Being the smart person he was he knew that hiding inside of such a place would obviously get him caught, so he hopped out and slid underneath it. Once he was well hidden he head the men jump down into metal box, making it give off a loud 'pung' sound which was in no way pleasant to his ears. He waited and listened to the men arguing with one another, obviously pissed off at the sudden disappearance of the person they were pursuing. After a few short minutes the men left still sounding rather aggravated at the fact that they had let the intruder go. Sliding out, he found that though he was not in there for long he smelt of garbage and was in needed of a long hot shower.

So here he was, towel wrapped around his waste and another one around his shoulders. The how water made him feel a little better and had gotten ride of the stitch that had latched into him. Running the towel through his hair, he tried to think of a better way to go about the whole Hatter situation; if he wanted kill or at lest wound him to the point of death Rabi needed to be smart. Charging in would've been worst idea he's come up with, so he needed to buy himself sometime, even if it meant more jobs would be taken. Walking out of the bathroom he made his way to his room, reminding himself to clean up all the water he was getting in the floor. His apartment wasn't small but it was by no means a penthouse, or for that matter something you'd see uptown. It only had one bedroom that was completely a mess since the redhead never bothered to clean it. The kitchen was barely used and was probably the cleanest thing in the apartment; Rabi wasn't much of a chief and sometimes had Allen cook for him (he did it willingly and sometimes come over unannounced), but other then that it was pizza or Chinese. It new it was a horrible diet, but when your boss is stingy and all of your jobs are being taken by some hack with a famous name, what else could he do? Once in his room he plopped on his bed and pulled out his cell-phone; he needed to find as much information on the new Hatter and if it meant making his informant work overtime…or rather…making his _Cheshire Cat_ work over time. There were some titles in his world that were not used to describe players, but they were rather generic names given to those who were not necessarily expected to fight or were to provide some sort of help or were to describe what position someone held. Every player started out as an Alice, because they were lost and needed help finding their way. An Alice was basically a newbie and did not receive a title unless given to them by someone else, so it was completely possible for an Alice to keep said name for quite sometime. Cheshire Cat's were the informants and gave any information to the players if asked, even if it meant hacking their way into a super computer or jacking the feed form a government satellite. Like the name given to them a few of the Cat's were…a little off their rockers. The redhead once had to question where they had obtained his and why she was paired up with him; from her sweet Lolita fashion, strange sayings, to her obsession with a small umbrella she swore could talk there was definitely something 'missing up there' in Rabi's opinion.

Sighing a little, he scrolled down his list of number and just as the redhead got to the last name he clicked the right arrow three times, making a completely different list come up. All players had the same customized phone which could hold more then it looked like. Each had three 'secret' screens that were only accessed when a certain button pattern was pressed. Right now all he wanted to do was called his informant so all he did was scroll down the new list of name and picks the one that said 'CC'. He really only talked to her when a job was given, or when he needed more information for something that needed further elaboration. Placing it against his ear he waited for all the ringing to stop and for her to pick up the phone. Once it was over he was greeted with her answering machine, which consisted of a two minute long ramble about how she 'loved her cute little Lero' and how 'her daddy didn't treat him right' after which he was given the usually 'not able to pick up, please leave a message'. Where was she? It wasn't like she had anywhere important to be…she might've only been fifteen, she wasn't the type to turn her phone off. Since that was true her not answering might've had something to do with her recently finding out that her computer was hacked. It happened yesterday and Rabi was so dumbstruck by what she told him; apparently she'd found out that someone had been tapping into her computer and copying valuable information from her hardrive. Upon hearing this he already knew who the culprit was; he got over his shock rather quickly once he realized just what she said after 'computer hack'. That…bastard…Rabi was beyond pissed off about the guy hacking into his informant's computer because that not only meant he was killer but a thief.

He groaned and closed his phone, lying back on the soft sheets below him. Why did he have to deal with this kind of crap? Before he could answer his own question he heard his front door open then close, telling him that Allen was here for dinning. Leaping up from his spot he quickly walked over to his dresser and pilled out a pair of pants; the last thing he wanted was to give his cousin the wrong idea with him wearing nothing more then a white bath towel. Once he'd slipped on a simple pair of jeans he heard the door to his room open slowly, making him curse a little because he had forgotten all about the small graze on his shoulder.

"Oh, there you are, I was calling you" Allen said, poking his head through he door.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that I was changing" He said, pulling open another drawer and pulled out a clean shirt. Just as he had it over his head he felt fingers run themselves across the small mark on his shoulder, taking him by surprise slightly.

"What happened?" His cousin asked with a little concern in his voice. This was the part the redhead hated…the lies. Rabi hated looking Allen in the eye and lying to his face, filling his head full of false information just so he could cover his ass. He didn't liked being so deceitful, but it was the only thing he could do to protect him from the horrors he would face. So he just put on a small smile and told him the most ridiculous of stories; apparently he was running home, trying his best to avoid the rain. Since he only had one thing on his mind the redhead had blocked everything around him out, resulting in him crashing into a row of trashcans. He not only was covered in the putrid mess, but had messed up his shoulder when he hit the first one. Rabi knew it sounded terrible but it was the only thing he could think of that combined his lack of clothing and the graze on his shoulder. If he asked what he was doing out while it was raining he would merely say that he decided to go grocery shopping. The redhead wasn't the kind to shop often, only going when he was nearly out of food. He didn't have many people over nor did usually invite people over; it wasn't because he wished to keep people at a certain distance, it was simply because it would be too much of a hassle to balance. He had already found that his world and the normal needed to be given the same amount of attention, so he didn't want to constantly be ditching his friend and coming up with lies that sounded too farfetched for anyone to believe. Balance was necessary to keep his life in order, and Rabi was determined to keep said balance in order to keep those close to him alive.

His cousin just looked at him for a moment then quickly averted his eyes to the ground, his hand now off of his body. The redhead was going to ask just what was wrong but he found the question rather stupid, and it was probably best to just let it go. Here they were…Rabi standing with his shirt over his head, practically half naked and his cousin who was so head-over-heels for him trying his best to not making the whole situation seem awkward…this technically couldn't count as flashing, right? Quickly slipping his shirt over his head he sighed a little; he really needed to say something to him because this kind of tension was starting to get to him. He did like Allen quite a bit but he wasn't sure if it was alright for him to be getting that close to him. He was so innocent…and to destroy that innocence would be his biggest sin. To have something this pure in such a world was rare and to take that away…he just couldn't do that.

"I-I'll start dinner" Allen said as he quickly began to leave.

"Hay, wait a minute" Rabi said, gently pulling his cousin back. Allen wasn't sure why he did what he did, but he knew he couldn't take it back since the deed was already done. As soon as he felt the redhead's hand on him he did the first thing that came to mind…kick him. It was purely out of instinct what he did, but at lest he managed to stop himself just as his foot a mere inch away from his cousin's face. He didn't like to be grabbed like that by anyone…it brought back too many bad memories for him. He slowly lowered his leg and back away, apologizing as he did so because he hadn't fully realized what he had done. The last person he wanted to hurt was Rabi…he was his only family and the only person he could look up to. Once out of the redhead's room, he tried to think of a way to explain his behavior; he could've said that it was some kind of weird reflex, that whenever he was tugged on he felt like he needed to defend himself. But then that explanation would just prompt more question than he wanted, and he didn't want to lie more then he had to. Running his fingers through his hair, he walked into the kitchen and started to rummage through the bags of food he had purchased. He didn't mind cooking for Rabi, since he knew the redhead didn't know how to cook to save his life. It had always been like even when they were little; whenever Allen would come over to visit he and his cousin would attempt to make a batch of some kind of baked good, but Rabi would always mess them up by burning or adding too much salt to them. Allen would only laugh a little and fix whatever the problem was, his uncle always saying that he had a 'natural talent as a chief' which would sometimes make him blush. Complements were fine when he was younger but as he become older he found that he didn't like them as much. When being told how 'good' he was at something it was usually said by the person he thought he loved, and every time someone would tell him how excellent he was at something he would always think about how false those words seemed. He didn't want to be lied to anymore and if he was the person would feel his wrath, because he felt that he deserved that much.

Pulling out a few vegetables he walked over to the sink and began to wash them. What would he tell the redhead? He wasn't one to think of his feet, but now he found it necessary to keep his little secret alive. If he had it his way a world filled with killers wouldn't exist since it conflicted with the real one. The real world might've had the same amount of deceit but at lest he didn't have to worry about being shot ever five minutes. Once he was done washing the vegetables he left them in the sink and started to prepare the meat for the stew. He wanted to cook a lot of something so Rabi would have something to eat for at lest six days. He knew how much his cousin worried about him but what he didn't know was just how much he deeply cared about his wellbeing. He spent many a nights thinking about if someone had found out his secret, if someone was heading over to the redhead's apartment at that very second to seek revenge. That thought made wake up in a cold sweat at night, panting and wondering if such a thing was possible. But he knew it was…it had happened once and it was bound to happen again, and the only thing he could do again was try to fight. His heart wasn't going to be broken again and he was going to make sure of it, but if it did…

He'd come after them with more fury in his heart then he already had…So lost in thought Allen barely noticed that he'd cut his finger with the knife he was using; he had indeed felt it but did not act upon it since it was such a small sensation. He was taught to ignore such things because it was meaningless to make a big deal over something so small, however; that did not mean he could no long feel physical pain. He could very well feel everything that was happening to him, but to compare a cut from a share of jagged glass on his side to a small cut on his finger from a knife was a big stretch. Looking down he stared at it for a few minutes; he wasn't a monster…at lest not yet and he wasn't sure how long it would take for him to become one. There was one price that came with being the Mad Hatter…loss of sanity. It would happen gradually and no one knew why taking on such a name meant losing the one thing keeping you inline. His mentor had managed to suppress his urges but he could sometimes see it in his eyes. It was a look that said he wanted to just tear him limb from limb, not caring who saw him. To know that he was going to suffer the same fate did not outweigh the fact that he deeply wanted to make the people that tortured him pay.

"Allen!" Came a very concerned voice from behind him. Before he knew it his hand was being covered up with a soft cloth that he guessed was the one the belonged on the sink.

"You needed to be more careful…It's really not like you to cut yourself…" Rabi said, gently squeezing the finger that was bleeding. Allen was acting so off to the point where Rabi was seriously starting to worry. He knew that his cousin never cut himself while cooking since, unlike him, he knew what he was doing. Something must've been bothering him and it was up to Rabi to find out. That was his job…he was the parent in his cousin's life now and he was going to try to protect from as much as he could. But did that mean he loved him? Love was such a complicated emotion and the redhead wasn't sure if he really knew it he was or wasn't falling for him. Rabi asked if something was wrong and he was given the answer he thought he would get…a simple head shake. He hated it when his cousin would lie to him because it made him feel like Allen couldn't trust him. He wanted Allen's trust…and wanted him to look in the eye and say 'I'll tell you anything you want to know'. But he knew that wasn't possible; there were some things about his cousin that he just wasn't meant to know, and as much as it pained him he wasn't allowed to pry. Looking down he found that he had stopped the bleeding somewhat, so he allowed himself a little sigh. Getting all worked up over something so simple was rather stupid, but he just couldn't help but play the 'mother hen' to Allen. Reaching over he patted his head, earning him a little blush from his cousin. He really liked that look…the way his cousin's eyes were always averted to the side and how his face looked like he wanted to say something but the blush told him otherwise. He just couldn't resist such a look…a look of innocence. It was at that moment that he knew…he knew that he needed this sort of thing around him. Why shouldn't he love Allen? He wasn't really related to him by blood so that didn't count as incest, right? Leaning closer to him Rabi tried to think of what he would say to him since…well…dealing with this kind of emotion was something he was not use to. When he noticed Allen back up a little he knew it was a now or never situation…

Hesitating a little, the redhead wrapped his arm around his cousin's waist and pulled him against his body. Was this wrong? He said he would protect Allen from everything that was sent his ways, but…what if someone came after him? What if, because of his involvement in his world, his cousin was kidnapped? All of these things were possible and Rabi needed to figure out right at that moment if he wanted to risk it. Using his free hand the redhead gently gripped Allen's chin, making him look him on the eye. He wanted him to be happy…but he didn't want that happiness to come with a price, since the redhead already knew the pain that came along with such an action. He needed to say it…to tell him that he was either ready to accept him into his life or keep him a certain distance.

"Allen…I…" Rabi started, but paused got the longest time, "Wanna tell you something…"

--

**A/N:** Reviews would be greatly appreciated

**CC:** We are in no way talking about the character from _Code Geass_


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